


Bitter Victory

by SilverLynxx



Series: Thorki Drabbles [2]
Category: Thor - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Community: norsekink, Dark-fic, Implied Incest, Implied Non-Con, M/M, Prompt Fic, mini!fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-01
Updated: 2012-01-01
Packaged: 2017-10-26 03:20:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/278088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverLynxx/pseuds/SilverLynxx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loki has won and accomplished all that he has wished for, yet he finds the taste of victory is not as sweet as he had imagined.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bitter Victory

**Author's Note:**

> **Prompt** : _AU where Loki wins at everything and takes his revenge on basically everyone he feels angry at, especially Thor. Loki succeeds in completely breaking Thor's spirit..._  
>  _...and discovers that he's never regretted anything the way he regrets that._
> 
> * * *

With a confident stride he swept into the king’s chamber. His steps were silent, his cape fluttered with a barely audible stirring of air and the door closed with an ominous thud behind him. It was his chamber now.

Small flames flickered to life from various positioned candles with an easy swipe of his hand, fending off the darkness to cast the room in a low, warm light. It was an almost romantic atmosphere, if one overlooked the chained and bared body kneeling on the floor in the corner. 

Green eyes focused on nothing but the prone figure as Loki slowly approached, hands gently easing the horned helmet from his head. His face was smoothed with an expression of calm detachment, but there was a burning of triumph in his eyes as he gazed down at the crumbling shell of his brother, so close, so very close, to the edge of utter ruin. 

“Oh Thor,” Loki sighed lightly, as if he was a child caught doing something he shouldn’t. 

Thor did not twitch, nor even seemed to acknowledge his younger brother’s presence. The once radiant god, who had not long ago drawn all eyes to him with his booming, jovial voice and abundance of self-confidence, was now dirty and silent. His body was unmarked of any wounds, for Loki knew no physical pain could ever break a man, a warrior born and bred, such as Thor. So he had relied on his cunning, bitterness and cultivated ruthlessness to find the chinks in his brother’s armour, and once he had found them he had dug in his claws, torn layer upon steeled layer of protection away until he had bared his brother’s vulnerable underbelly to his vengeful fangs.

He had degraded his brother, used and abused him in the most shameful of ways, for anger and resentment knew no mercy, only the satisfaction of another fallen vindicator who had wounded him more severely than any weapon could have managed.

Loki stared down at his brother, quelling the bitter words that frothed still on his tongue. He crouched down to eye-level with his brother, his prisoner and pet. But the eyes that he could just glimpse through greasy, once glorious, gold locks did not rise from their fixed point upon nothingness; eyes that had seen his friends fall warm, bleeding and dead upon the floor before him.

He raised a hand in a faux tender action, resting his warm palm against the rugged cheek of Thor’s face. He brushed the pad of his thumb across the chapped lips, once worn from the weather, now ragged from being chewed so thoughtlessly. They were lips he had ravished, bitten and kissed in equal measures.

He now raised the man’s head, forcing him to look up, expecting to see the fierce glare or the ever present stubborn furrowing of his brow. He was mildly surprised when he received neither, and had to jolt Thor’s head sharply to get his eyes to meet Loki’s own. 

“Why the lack of fight, Brother, where has your fire gone today?” he murmured quietly, voice light and thoughtful, but within it lurked a cinder of malice, stemmed from a bitterness left to fester. 

Loki was stunned to silence when Thor’s eyes, once lively and bright, finally rose to meet his, heavy with sadness and defeat. 

“Please, brother,” Thor whispered hoarsely, and no matter how many times he renounced Loki as his brother, no matter how many times Loki had taken him and ridiculed him as being neither kin nor lover, he found Thor never truly abandoned the affectionate title. “I concede. No more, I...I concede. I no longer wish to fight, brother, you have _won_. Please...just...no more...”

The emphasis on that one word is what he had strived for. When he had captured his brother, broken and beaten him, he had strived for that defeat, to say he had truly and rightfully broken his father’s favoured son, the true heir of Asgard. 

A new bitterness he could not explain was now tangible on his tongue, and it flooded his mouth with an unpleasant taste.

He watched as Thor’s body seemed to shudder and fold in on itself, crumbling under the weight of his complete submission. The last remaining flicker of light seemed to die there and then in his eyes, the blue, once vibrant as the mid-noon sky, now dull and lifeless.

Had Loki not put a hand to the man’s chest to verify the existence of the fragile heartbeat, he would have thought his brother dead. 

So, he had won; his brother truly broken in no longer just a physical sense. He awaited the joy, the pleasure and the pride to consume him, for accomplishing his goals, for striking down all those who had wronged and humiliated him. 

He waited, and waited. But the pride never came. He knelt, staring at his brother, confusion clouding his eyes as his heart seemed to ache almost, and a coldness that he could not connect to his true heritage began to consume him. 

His trembling hand released his brother’s face, and Thor’s head merely slumped back to his chest with no more energy or will to support himself any longer. Loki retreated sharply, unable to take his eyes away. His helmet slipped and fell from where he had tucked it under his arm and it clattered to the floor with a deafening sound.

By the time the metal had stopped ringing throughout the chamber, Loki had already fled.


End file.
